What Could Have Been
by Bellatrix wannabe 89
Summary: What if Olivia had known Voight during the worst four days of her life when William Lewis had kidnapped her? Would she have been found earlier? Would she have been taken at all? Most importantly, would the Chicago Sergeant make what Lewis did to Olivia in that beach house look like child's play compared to what Voight would do if he got ahold of him? Benoight
1. Chapter 1

I own no one but my own people

 **A/N Thanks to Imani (xThePassionateWriterx on here, ReginaxOlivia on twitter) for the prompt and idea. I love you :-) I know at the time Surrender Benson aired (Sept 2013) Voight was serving time but let's pretend he never got arrested okay? Also, there's some Bensidy in this but it's not a love triangle. This is a Benoight story (sorry Bensidy shippers, I love Brian too but a fic writers gotta do what a fic writers gotta do. Hey that rhymed!) Anyway please read review and enjoy. But mostly enjoy.**

Looking back, it was amazing how a regular calm Monday morning could have turned into one of the most intense terrifying days in Hank Voights life.

After working together twice, Voight and Olivia had been in regular contact for a few months. There wasn't a week that went by where they didn't at least call each other or skype.

He told her about his cases, what his unit was up to, how he couldn't wait for his son to get out of prison… There wasn't too much excitement in the Windy City but Olivia still seemed enthralled by every gruff rasp word that passed through his lips.

On her end, she would also talk about her job her colleagues… She told him all about her boyfriend, some uni cop that was working nights at a Bronx courthouse. Although Olivia explained that he wound up with the feather soft beat because he had been demoted, not of his own choosing and was actually dying to get back to where the real action was so Voight didn't make fun of him. That bad anyway.

Olivia also told him about her cases, including the sociopath that she was investigating right now. William Lewis… Even the name brought a shudder to the two hard cops. It seemed like no matter what angle you tried to catch him at, he would wiggle off the hook. He would torture and murder women, burn them, brand them, rape them for hours, even days on end.

She would never admit it but Voight could tell she was terrified of him, especially the way that he would look at her. She would swear she could practically see him defiling her in the reflection of his eyes when she looked into them.

On Friday night Olivia called up Voight, letting him know that the judge had declared a mistrial and he was out on bail thanks to his lawyer/girlfriend. She was mad, wanting justice for the victims that he had tortured, raped, and killed. But, even though she didn't tell him, she was also scare. She didn't want him back on the streets for other people's safety as well as her own.

He told her that she would be fine. That he wouldn't dare go after her unless he had a death wish. She had to go food shopping so she, unconvincingly, told him that she would be fine and was just being a worry wart. He promised to call her over the weekend to see how she was doing, told her to take care of herself. She thanked him, said goodnight, and hung up the phone.

That was Friday night.

He had, as promised, called a few times on Saturday and Sunday but had received no answer. Voight was half tempted to call one of her squad members to go over and check on her, but he didn't want to start a panic just because she wasn't picking up her phone.

She could have been finally relaxing or she was so deep into his case file that she didn't want anything to take away her focus. So Sunday night he finally put down his phone and climbed into bed.

Olivia would be fine. There wasn't any reason for him to worry or be upset. She would call him tomorrow, tell him he was a pussy for worrying about her so much, and she would be fine and well rested. Even with that in mind, Voight fell into an uneasy sleep the hope that she was okay in the back of his mind.

Monday morning came as it did every week. He showered and dressed himself in his usual jeans, cotton t-shirt and leather jacket before he headed into his little kitchen.

Voight turned on his little kitchen TV to Fox News not really for the content but more for the noise, even though he was a moderate Republican, as he began making his breakfast. He turned on the coffee maker and turned to watch while the black liquid brewed.

Four people were sitting around discussing the fact that the NYPD had offered up their own reward for help in finding a missing cop.

"All I'm saying is why should MY tax money go to someone who probably was involved in the crime in the first place? The NYPD gets paid to protect us, not give their money away to thugs who are short on some cash and only then deciding to come forward," one of the commentators said, being met with a nod of approval from his fellow hosts.

"Not to mention," the stick thin blonde woman who couldn't quite smile because of the Botox in her face. "The cop they're looking for is a detective in sex crimes," she said with a shudder of disgust.

Voight had just stated to lay strips of bacon into the pan when he whipped around, his heart jumping into his throat. No. No, they couldn't have been talking about her…

"They're so obsessed with rape and sex," the blonde continued. "That she probably went off on her own with him. A Sex Crimes Detective and an accused rapist running off together? That sounds like something one of those panty police would be into."

They're the feminizes of the NYPD," a large robust man laughed. "Well if Detective Benson did go with William Lewis on her own, let's hope that he remembered to get written consent in video before he even tries to hold her hand otherwise he could find himself in prison for life."

Voight had never sprinted to his phone as fast as he had right then. He dialed Olivia's phone first getting nothing but her voice telling him to leave a message, the same greeting he had gotten every time he tried to call this past weekend.

"FUCK!" he yelled, using every bit of restraint in him not to throw his phone down on the ground. His fingers flew as he searched for a number he wasn't as familiar with, dialing as soon as he found it.

"Pick up," he growled after the first ring. "Come on! PICK UP!"

"Special Victims Unit, this is Sergeant Munch," a familiar voice answered. In the background he could hear an explosion of people's hectic almost frantic voices. His nightmare was becoming more real by the second.

"Munch, its Hank Voight. Let me speak to Captain Cragen or Olivia Benson NOW!" he ordered the man he had met several times when he was in New York in his telltale raspy voice.

"Captain Cragen is out at the moment, Olivia is…" He heard Munch take a deep shaky breath. "She's not here right now."

"Is she with him? With William Lewis, did he do something to her?" His terror was shining through and for the first time in a very long time he couldn't hide it.

He hesitated for a long moment before he spoke. "Yes. We're not sure when he got a hold of her but her apartment… It's bad, Voight," Munch said with a shake in his voice for the first time. "Real bad. He already hurt her, we don't know where she is or how much of a head start he's got or where he's going... "

Voight covered his mouth with his hand, closing his eyes as he took several deep breaths. His hand was shaking as he hung up the phone, clutching it so hard he was sure the plastic cover started to crack.

Nothing else mattered. None of his current cases, letting his squad know he was leaving, any trials he had to testify in, not a damn thing… Olivia had been kidnapped by a sadistic sociopath who got off on torturing and raping women and he had already started to hurt her.

Voight pulled himself out of his shock and only taking the time to shut off his stove he began a dead sprint to his car as dialed another number.

"I need the earliest direct flight to JFK," he barked into his phone. A beat of silence as he wrenched open the front door. "I don't care if it's full; you bump somebody and tell them to wait! ...Don't tell me to calm down, this is a Goddamn police matter!" he bellowed. "I'm Sergeant Hank Voight with Chicago Intelligence, badge number 5179 and I don't care what you have to do or who you have to talk to, I will be at O'Hare in fifteen minutes and I WILL have a ticket to JFK Airport or I will arrest your ass for interfering in a police investigation!"

Not giving the ticket agent a second to respond Voight hung up the phone and threw it down in the seat next to him and drove off with his tires squealing.

Olivia was in trouble. He had to find her. He had to save her. And he had to make damn sure the man who DARED to lay a finger on the only woman he had feelings for since his wife died would never see the light of day ever again…


	2. Chapter 2

I own no one but my own people

Voight had made the flight to Manhattan several times. It usually took around two hours, just long enough for him to watch a movie on his tablet, eat the Quiznos sub he got before he boarded, and just relax. He would always have a grin on his lips because he knew at the end of the crowded flight he would see Olivia's smiling face when he walked through the gate.

This time it was different. This time those two hours seemed to take an eternity. At the airport instead of waiting patiently, downing a small bag of Doritos he got with his sub he sat anxiously on the uncomfortable chairs, tapping his foot against the floors with his arms crossed and his head bowed.

Voight kept waiting for his phone to ring, for either Olivia to call and say that she was alright or for one of her squad to call and say they found her.

His own squad had called and texted him several times which he ignored until finally he was sick of his heart jumping in his heart every time his phone rang thinking it would be bad news about Olivia when really it was just Halstead wanting to know when he was coming in.

Voight finally answered when Erin had called him for the eighth time, greeting her with a short raspy "Olivia's kidnapped; I'm going to Manhattan to find her."

Without giving her a chance to respond he hung up on the woman he considered a daughter. There were no more texts or calls after that.

Two excruciating hours later he landed in JFK. He collected his gun from the cockpit, all but sprinted off the plane, grabbed the rental car closes to the door, and sped all the way to the 1-6 precinct.

Voight ignored checking in with the Desk Sgt and instead just stormed up the stairs to where SVU's bullpen was. He glanced round the crowded bustling building and when he saw a familiar face he marched over to it.

"Two days, Munch," Voight heard the uni Munch was talking to mutter in a defeated manner to the older Sergeant as he neared them. It was Brian Cassidy, Olivia's boyfriend. He had seen enough photos to know him on sight and, to be honest; the Chicago Sergeant was not that impressed. "What's he doing to her, Man?"

"You can't think like that."

"If she's even still alive."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Voight barked, gaining the attention of both Munch and Cassidy. He stormed up to the pair and stood in between them and even though the officer was taller than him Voight could still impose anyone just by the hard mean look in his eyes. "'If she's even still alive'? Why don't you just start planning her fucking funeral already since you already gave up hope on finding her?"

"Back off, Kermit," Cassidy snapped. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

"I'm the man that's gonna find the woman you claim to love even though your ass is just sitting around here wondering if she's dead or not. As for backing off, I'd love for you to make me," Voight shot back, taking a bold step closer to him so that they were chest to chest.

Munch grabbed a hold of Voights shoulders and gently pulled him away from the officer. "Everyone calm down. Voight, you apparently know Brian Cassidy, Olivia's boyfriend. Brian, this is Sergeant Hank Voight Chicago Intelligence, he's flown in to help on the case."

Cassidy glared at the Chicago Sergeant. He heard Voights name from his girlfriends lips far too many times to be comfortable with, and always with a smile attached to it. He didn't trust the stocky Chicago Sergeant any further then he could throw him.

"Voight, you're tired," Munch said softly. "Why don't you go get some sleep in the cribs?"

The Chicago Sergeant shook his head adamantly as he pushed by the two NY cops and looked at the case board. "I'm not sleeping until we find her."

He swallowed hard as his brown eyes landed on the photographs of Olivia's apartment. The blood stains that littered the carpet, the cigarettes, the hangers twisted into a brand… Every single inch of the photos made Voights blood boil but at the same time his veins had turned to ice and he shivered, forcing himself to turn away from them and instead focus on the photo of her from her jacket.

Olivia looked proud, bold, distinguished… her brown eyes held a strength that Voight would have moved heaven and earth to make sure she never lost.

She was beautiful.

"We got NYPD, state police, Suffolk PD all out looking for her… Go get some sleep, Man," Munch interrupted his thoughts.

"No," Voight barked as he rounded on him. "Alright this fucking psycho is out there somewhere doing God knows what to her and you expect me to sleep?"

"Voight-."

"He doesn't let her sleep, we don't sleep either. What was the last we heard from him?"

Munch sighed softly but knowing it was a lost cause walked up the board. "Last we heard he had her at Lewis' girlfriends' parents. He killed the husband, before he raped the wife in front of… in front of Olivia. After that Lewis stole their SUV, we got it out on every avenue we can think of, we got road blocks… The only thing we can do now is wait."

Voight scoffed. "Wait? What is this armature hour?"

"What do you suggest we do?" Cassidy snapped, his own frustrations leaking out into his words. "Anything you can think of to do what we haven't thought of, I'll be happy to hear. He has no connections, no friends, no family; we got a BOGO out on the car… We have done everything we can think of."

Voight glared at Cassidy but couldn't think of any response so instead he just turned back to the board, letting his eyes settle on the photo of her again.

 _I'll find you, Liv_ he swore to himself. _I promise…_

I know it's a short chapter for such a long wait but please review.


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